


Reformation

by moonside



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward first time sex, Body Dysmorphia, M/M, bad first blow jobs, i see way too much of myself in prompto, lots of teenage masturbation, mild edging, noctis being slightly dominating, possibly triggering mentions of slight eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonside/pseuds/moonside
Summary: Over the years, Prompto takes progress pictures of himself. He’s not really sure if he can see any difference, but he keeps taking them anyway.





	

 

Prompto doesn’t fully understand his situation when he first arrives in Insomnia, but he knows he has to survive, and he knows he has to lie. He knows he’s different; he’s just a little kid, but intrinsically he knows other people are normal, and he’s not. Other people have parents, and Prompto has none. He has a code on his wrist.

He’s lucky, because there’s not outright war, and he can slip into the city without notice. There are enough reports of little incidents that it’s easy for him to tell the first guard who stops him and questions him that his parents died in an “accident.” He’s little, and his eyes are wide and he looks terrified, because he is, and he stumbles his way through a made up story like any shell-shocked kid would.

And, he’s lucky because King Regis is kind, and there are programs set up to help kids like him, kids who are alone without a family. Prompto owns nothing but some rags he’s wearing, and a pair of too-big gloves that’s covering his wrists; he stole them on the journey, and he feels bad about that. He’s given a little flat to stay in and a nice lady helps him settle in. She comes by a few times a week to make sure he’s okay, make sure he’s got food, and clothing, and that he’s attending the school they helped him enroll in. She’s always really nice, but then she leaves, so Prompto tries really hard not to get attached.

He’s alone, so very alone, and nervous and shy, and Prompto is constantly aware that he’s not the same as everyone else. But he’s safe, and that’s a new, good feeling, one that he holds on to and uses to fend off all the other uncertainties, for a while at least.

\---

Prompto’s too skinny at first. The kids at school mostly ignore him—they can tell he’s weird, different. He’s quiet and he doesn’t quite know what to say. He’s a good few inches shorter than most of them, and the clothes he’s got are a little too big, hang off his skinny frame in weird places. He tries to buy new clothes, but he doesn’t have a lot of money. He saves up, but the first thing he buys is a nice, thick striped wristband. It covers the mark on his wrist nicely and it doesn’t look too weird.

He doesn’t know how to cook, and the lady who visits brings him takeout, shows him how to make simple things, but he just seems to mess it up. He burns toast, and his little home smells like smoke for hours. It scares Prompto, makes him sad that he’s failed a simple task, so he decides he doesn’t really want to cook. He has enough money to eat burgers and fries though, if he buys from the cheaper burger places.

Food is something nice, something Prompto likes. It seems people like to eat, too, and it makes him feel a little more human, gives him a simple pleasure. So he eats, and when he starts to fill out his clothes a little, he feels a bit better.

\---

Prompto learns that apparently he gains weight easily. It creeps up on him, he doesn’t notice at first, then there’s a little bit of pudge, but it’s better than skin and bones, like he’s used to. He comes home alone every night and takes simple pleasure in eating dinner in front of the little television he has. The other kids talk about video games a lot, and Prompto can’t afford any games, but he gets a few channels and he likes to watch shows about people interacting with each other, since he’s not good at that.

He realizes he’s become a bigger kid when his clothes don’t fit anymore. His cheeks burn with shame when he has to exhaust his meager savings to afford new ones. The kids at school don’t make fun of him, still, but they give him a different sort of look now.

Prompto gets by, though. He’s strong, and he’s survived so much worse. He’s not really sure why he’s alive, still, but he decides that he’ll be kind to everyone, always. He learns that he really likes taking pictures, and that’s helpful. He can’t afford a nice camera, but he has a camera on his phone, and he decides he’s going to save up for a real one. He starts taking in stray animals; he feeds the cats that live in the alleyway by his house, and one day he finds a bird with a broken wing. He takes it home and looks up a video online about how to make a splint for its wing. The bird dies, but Prompto’s still glad he tried, and he buries it in a little box in a park down the street. He cries, and it makes him feel a little more like he’s alive and not just a thing.

\---

He finally saves up enough money to get a camera.

It’s not the one he truly wants—his eyes go wide as he stares at the beautiful SLRs they have on display. It’s more money than Prompto will ever have, though. But he does his research on the internet and picks out a cheaper, basic point and shoot that actually has pretty good reviews, and enough settings for a budding new photographer to get comfortable with.

Prompto is taking pictures on his way home from school one day when he sees a puppy with a hurt leg.

He takes it home, and he calls it Chibi. He’s happy for the companion, and even though he looks for Chibi’s owner, he grows accustomed to sharing his home with another living creature. Quietly, he hopes that the dog’s owner never shows up, and he can keep his new friend forever.

One day Chibi is gone, and there’s a note waiting for Prompto, thanking him for taking care of Chibi. It’s from Lady Lunafreya, and even though he’s never met her, he knows who she is. She’s the pretty Oracle lady, and she’s talking about Prince Noctis.

He’s happy that Chibi is home now, but Prompto still cries a little as he eats some leftover pizza. He’s sad, so he has an extra slice, because it makes him feel a little bit better.

Lady Luna mentions that he should be friends with Prince Noctis, and Prompto decides that’s a good idea. It seems like the prince is always pretty lonely, he’s got nobody except the serious looking older boy who’s always waiting for him after school. So maybe they can be friends.

\---

Prince Noctis made a comment about Prompto’s weight, and he feels awful about it.

He’s not worthy to be Noctis’s friend.

Prompto looks at himself in shame, in the mirror. He pokes at his protruding belly. He wiggles his arms and sighs at the flabby skin jiggling there.

He tries to suck his stomach in, but he’s still bulgy on the sides.

He tilts his head a little, to try and make it look like he doesn’t have a double chin.

He’s got stretch marks on his hips from the weight gain, and they’re red and angry and pronounced.

But he’s still a fat kid, and Prompto thinks that’s maybe why he hasn’t managed to fit in all along. He doesn’t think anyone knows who, what, he truly is. He decides that he’ll have to try harder to make people like him. Try harder to make Prince Noctis like him. Because Prompto isn’t normal, he’s okay with having no friends. But someone like Noctis? Someone who Lady Lunafreya, who sends kind letters and has sweet words, speaks fondly of? He must be a good person, and he deserves a friend.

Prompto makes it his goal to become a better person, so that he can be the friend Prince Noctis needs.

\---

Running sucks.

Prompto doesn’t know what else to do. He looks up weight loss techniques, and there’s lots of stuff out there and a lot of people with very differing opinions. He learns about calorie counting, and basic exercise regiments. He doesn’t have the money to join a gym, or to do any sports, but he’s got some sweats that he uses for gym class at school, and he owns a pair of sneakers. He decides he’ll start running.

He gets an app designed for new runners. It tells him how much to run every day.

The first day, Prompto can’t jog more than 30 seconds before he’s winded. He wants to give up, but a nice man waves at him and tells him he’s doing a good job. In his head, Lady Luna tells him he’s doing a good job too. Prompto keeps running.

At dinner, Prompto pretends to enjoy the leafy salad he’s eating. He wants a burger, more than anything. But he shovels greens into his mouth instead.

\---

One day, Prompto slips up. He’s had a hard day. It feels like he’s making no progress at all, and he’s still invisible to the world. He’s actually a pretty smart kid, but he keeps to himself. Today though, he raised his hand to answer a question, and his answer was wrong. Nobody gave it a second thought, but Prompto’s convinced everyone thinks he’s dumb now.

When he’s on his way home, he passes his favourite burger shop. He has a moment of weakness, darts inside, and eats the entire meal sitting right in the shop. He even buys a soda.

When he gets home, Prompto feels shame. His cheeks burn and he examines himself in the mirror from multiple angles. He hates entering the calories into his nutrition tracker on his phone.

The next morning, he gets up 15 minutes earlier and forces himself to run an extra mile. It doesn’t even it out, but he feels a little better.

\---

Prompto finally starts to see a real difference, after a year.

People have been telling him for a while that he looks different, he looks good, and the attention is bizarre. Prompto doesn’t believe them for the longest time. But, looking in the mirror, his face is more angular. He can see the little dip of his collarbone. His stomach isn’t flat yet, there’s some loose skin and still some fat, but it doesn’t jut out over the waist of his pants anymore. He’s had to buy smaller clothes.

“We’ve got a long way to go, Luna,” Prompto says to the mirror, holding the camera up to take his weekly progress picture. “But we’ve come a long way too.”

Maybe he doesn’t look so bad.

\---

The next day, when Prompto wakes up, he thinks he looks bloated. He wonders how he’d thought he looked so good?

\---

Prompto’s old enough to get a part time job.

He’s still getting government money to live, he will until he’s done high school, but it’s nice to have some real pocket money. He’s working at a photography studio, assisting the photographer, running errands, making appointments. Prompto thinks he’s really awful at talking to people, but he loves the job, and he’s soaking in every little tip he can about photography. Sometimes, when it’s a really basic shoot, they let Prompto help. The first time he lifts the expensive black camera to his face, he’s in heaven.

The customers seem to like him too, a lot. He can make little kids smile, makes goofy faces at them. Girls seem to like him too, he notices, a little awkwardly.

Now that he has a bit of extra money, he decides to join a gym.

He’s lost a lot of weight. His calves and thighs have grown strong from all the running, but Prompto’s self-conscious of his arms—especially the one he keeps covered at the wrist. He feels weak and flabby.

The first time he goes to the gym, he almost drops the bar on his head.

He tries to bench too much, and he’s lucky there’s a guy nearby to grab the bar when it almost falls onto his chest.

After, he feels like he’s going to die. His muscles are aching and he could barely lift anything. Prompto had glanced nervously around the gym, eyeing the loaded barbells all the other guys had. He pulls out his phone and does a google search for lifting tips. He decides he’s going to start counting his macros. He needs more protein.

He starts chatting with the guys at the gym. They’re pretty nice, actually, and really supportive. They give him tips, and slap Prompto across the back when he gets a new PR.

Somehow, the guys there seem to think he’s funny. Prompto doesn’t understand it, but it makes him feel good. It makes him feel a little funny, too, that he’s enjoying the attention so much.

\---

It’s the last day of summer, and Prompto is starting high school tomorrow.

He’s looking at himself in the mirror.

He’s all lean muscle and smooth stomach. He still doesn’t like his arms, but there’s tone to them. He’ll never be muscular and rugged, but there’s a certain lean grace to his body that he can appreciate.

He’ll always have the stretch marks, but he’s put coconut oil on them, and they’ve faded into a barely-visible silver white over time. He can almost think of them as marks that show how far he’s come. Almost.

Prompto poses a few times, in a few different angles, then snaps a photo.

He looks pretty good, even he has to admit.

He gives himself another look-over in the morning. Prompto wakes up extra early, before the sun has risen. He goes for a quick run. He eats boiled eggs and turkey bacon for breakfast. He still can’t really cook well, but he can make basic, healthy things. He spends an hour making sure his hair looks just right. He’s developed freckles from all his time outside running, and he covers those up too.

Then he heads to school.

When he finally introduces himself to Noctis, for a minute, Prompto’s heart breaks and he wonders if all his hard work is for nothing. “Don’t I know you?” Noctis muses, and Prompto wants to die—is he still really that same fat little pathetic kid?

Then Noctis gives his shoulder a playful little smack, and Prompto laughs in rueful embarrassment. They are best friends from this point forward.

\---

Being best friends with Noctis is harder than Prompto’s expecting it to be.

He’s gotten into such a routine over the past couple of years, that it’s hard to suddenly and abruptly have that routine change.

On Mondays, Prompto gets up and goes for a three mile run. After school, he goes to the gym for an hour. On Tuesdays, he goes for a longer run, and then he works his part time job at the photography studio. On Wednesdays, he does hill sprints and hits the gym. On Thursday, it’s his rest day, and he works all afternoon and usually well into the night. Friday is another early morning run, and then leg day at the gym. Saturday he usually can’t walk, so he rests and works. Sunday is long run day, and Prompto’s at the point where he usually does at least ten miles.

But suddenly, he’s friends with Noctis now, and the prince is consuming all of his time. After school, Noct throws a warm arm around his shoulders, and it feels so natural, and asks him to go over and play video games. And so Prompto rearranges his schedule, and somehow he’s at Noct’s all evening, and they’re eating whatever delicious food Ignis left in the fridge. Prompto feels guilty, and he’ll get up earlier tomorrow and try to cram extra miles in.

\---

“Hey,” Noctis says one day.

Prompto looks up from his phone. Noctis is looking at him, annoyed, and… is that slight concern, masked under there? He’s learning to read Noctis, but it’s still hard sometimes, the prince always has an expression of ruffled annoyance.

“Yeah?” Prompto says, “what’s up Noct?”

“It’s just a bag of chips,” Noctis scolds, proffering the bag of chips at him, giving it a teasing little shake. “You’ve barely eaten anything all day, just have a damn chip.”

“Sorry, Noct!” Prompto says cheerfully, but his stomach gives a little lurch. “If I eat it, I gotta enter it…”

“In your dumb app,” Noctis finishes with a scoff. “I know. You work out hard, dude. You need to calm it down a little. You’re hot, okay?”

He’s… hot? 

Prompto’s stomach gives a little lurch, the same feeling he gets at the gym when a guy gets too close to him or congratulates him on an accomplishment. It’s weird, because he’s straight, right? He likes girls.

Maybe he likes Noctis, too, and that’s a whole other thing to mull over.

“Give me your phone,” Noctis says suddenly, and he holds his hand out. Prompto doesn’t think, just hands it over, wonders what Noct is playing at.

“Good,” Noctis says, and he puts it aside, then offers the chips again, “now eat the damn chips, and don’t think about anything else. Hell, if you’re that worries, I’ll start making you come to my damn sword training. Gladio will love having another soul to torture.”

It’s not a bad idea. Prompto settles back on the couch and allows himself to eat a chip, then a second, and then a whole handful. He is awfully hungry.

\---

Prompto’s gained two pounds, but it might be muscle weight.

He spins around in front of the mirror, and he can’t really see much of a difference.

Still, he’s a little nervous.

Noctis had called him ‘hot.’ He wonders if Noct meant it, because Noctis has a princess, and she’s very beautiful, thin and blonde and gorgeous and loved by all. She’s also very much a living, breathing human being, and Prompto’s still very different.

\---

Gladio kicks his ass, when Prompto takes up Noct’s offer to go to his combat training.

Prompto still can’t lift as much as the other guys, but he’s pretty proud of his achievements. Still, picking up an actual sword, and swinging it around, leaves him reeling. He’s just too slender to get the momentum he needs, and half the time he’s falling over with the weapon. His arms are trembling after only a few minutes of parrying Gladio’s devastating blows.

“Fuck,” he pants, almost doubled over, hands on his knees, chest heaving. “I’m terrible at this.”

“Just gotta find your style of fighting,” Gladio reassures, and Prompto wonders how someone who was so ruthless only moments before is suddenly comforting and kind. Gladio is a massive mountain of a man, and Prompto finds himself appreciating him way more than he should be.

“Noct tells me you run a lot, and you’re pretty quick on your feet,” Gladio continues, and he grins at Prompto, “so maybe we get you started on something with some range to it…”

“Yeah,” Prompto says, anything as long as his arms stop feeling like limp noodles and he stops making an ass of himself trying to wield a sword.

\---

It’s Prompto’s birthday, and Noctis is oddly excited about it.

He’s trying to hide it, but Prompto can tell. He’s gotten better at reading Noctis, especially now that they’re training together. Gladio’s finally got them on the training floor together at the same time. Prompto’s had to shift his schedule around some. He’s only working at the studio twice a week now, and he cut back one of his gym days. He has a one-on-one with Gladio now, and then another day where they’re together. Ignis joins them sometimes that day too, and they actually fight pretty well together. Prompto’s a little proud, even though he’s still the weakest of them all, and he’s acutely aware of it.

Training with Noctis though, it’s all instincts and little gestures and expressions, and Prompto feels like he understands him a little better.

Noct’s leg is tapping against his desk at school, and he keeps mussing a hand through his hair. He’s excited and anxious. He keeps shooting little glances at Prompto, little twitches of his lip that Prompto thinks is Noct holding back a smile.

“It’s your birthday,” Noctis points out. He’s already said it today.

“Yep, it is,” Prompto says airily, “maybe for my birthday this year, I’ll get a girlfriend!”

He won’t, and he doesn’t want one, but he laughs at the idea, anyway, and Noctis laughs a little too, though Prompto gets a glimpse of some other emotion too, and it makes his stomach do a little flip, even though he doesn’t understand what it is.

When school finally ends, Noctis takes Prompto out for his birthday. “I’d cook you something,” Noctis admitted, “but I figured you don’t want to get food poisoning and die on your birthday.”

They go to an almost-fancy, semi-upscale restaurant. Prompto knows Noctis has access to more money than anyone their age should, and he’s embarrassed to let Noct pay for everything. But Noctis insists, and it is his birthday, so he relents. He has a steak, and it’s delicious—and, he thinks happily, it’s not too terrible for him, either. He does let himself order a slice of cake for dessert though, and it comes with two spoons, so he and Noct share it with alternating bites. Noctis gives him the last spoonful, and he jokingly feeds it to him from his spoon. Prompto’s stomach drops again, and he thinks fondly about how gorgeous Noctis is.

“I got you something,” Noct says, and that excited little half-smile is back.

He hands Prompto a gift that he’d kept stashed in his backpack.

Prompto opens it, and his hands tremble, his eyes go wide, and he lets out a little yell loud enough to disturb everyone else at the restaurant. He can’t be embarrassed, though, because Noct’s bought him a beautiful new camera, the exact model he wanted, the one that’s way more money than he can afford. “Holy shit Noct, you’re the best,” he says, and he gives his best friend the biggest hug of his life. He lingers a little too long, tangles his fingers in Noct’s shirt, but his friend holds on for just as long. It’s perfect.

When he gets home, Prompto undresses and stands in front of the mirror. It’s time for his weekly photo. He hadn’t even waited to leave the restaurant to fiddle with the camera’s settings, and he’d snapped a few awkward selfies of him and Noct, then made Noct pose for a few while they’d walked back home.

Prompto stands in front of the mirror with his new camera. He looks himself over. He’s put on a bit more muscle, thanks to all Gladio’s training, and it’s all lean muscle in places he hadn’t thought of when he’d been lifting. He feels stronger, at least, even if he’s the weakest of the four of them.

He’s got a tiny bit of belly, especially from his birthday meal sitting in his stomach. He pokes at a faded stretch mark that he can’t see in the half-darkness, but he knows is there.

“Happy birthday, Prompto!” he says to himself, still, with a little smile. He’s happy, even with his little imperfections. He snaps a photo with his new camera. Then, he opens the menu and looks at the picture for a long time on the LED screen of the camera.

His thumb hovers for a while, and finally Prompto hits the ‘delete’ button. He turns the new camera off, places it proudly on his bedside table, and crawls under the warm blankets. His thoughts are of Noctis, his little half-smiles, the way his mood switches from grumpy and haughty to playful at a whim.

He realizes he’s hard, and he only feels a little bit ashamed. When Prompto touches himself, lets out a little moan, hands tightening around his desperate arousal, his thoughts of Noctis turn into something more dangerous, and he doesn’t care. He wonders what it’s like to kiss Noctis, wonders what it’s like to run his hands over that gorgeous body. He’s seen Noctis without a shirt; they’ve even shared a bed a couple of times when he’s slept over. Noct’s muscles are more defined than his are, and he’s got gorgeous, flawless skin. 

Prompto wants to see Noct’s face flushed with arousal. He wants those eyes to look at him with lust. He thinks, with a sudden, hot jolt of pleasure, that he wants Noctis to fuck him. He’s never played around that much before, but even as he pumps his arousal, he reaches underneath himself with a precum-slickened finger, presses the tip of it inside. It feels a little painful, stretches and burns, but it’s good, too, and Prompto imagines it’s Noctis pressing inside of him like that.

He moans Noct’s name when he comes, biting down hard on the pillow, and Prompto realizes he’s got it bad for his best friend.

Noctis is beautiful, though, and out of his league, but Prompto decides not to let his little crush mess him up. It’s probably just because Noct is the first person who’s ever showed him this level of kindness and thoughtfulness.

He cleans himself up with his discarded underwear, rolls onto his stomach, and falls asleep.

\---

Prompto’s not good at disguising his crush, apparently.

It’s been a couple of weeks, and he’s a bit of a flustering mess, really. Noctis is gorgeous, and he finds himself staring. It’s not fair, really, how oblivious the prince is to how stupidly beautiful he is. Prompto’s pretty sure Noct doesn’t even brush his hair most days, but it still falls in flattering angles, mussed in just the right places.

Combat training is an absolute nightmare. Prompto’s lucky that Noctis rarely takes his shirt off. They’re barely halfway through training, and even though his black t-shirt is wet with sweat, dark stains against dark fabric on the back of his neck, his shoulders, the small of his back, Noctis doesn’t take it off. Or maybe it’s even worse that he doesn’t, because Prompto’s mind is filling in the blanks.

Gladio smacks Prompto viciously in the back of the head with the flat of his sword, and Prompto falls over. He’s been caught staring again. “Stop daydreaming; you’re just as bad as the princess,” he scolds him, but there’s a knowing little smug look in his eyes. Prompto flushes brightly—is it that obvious?

“Sorry, sorry!” he says, wincing, rubbing the side of his head and climbing back to his feet. Focus, he tells himself.

And he does, until he’s home. He tumbles into the shower, all red welts and bruised skin. Today was a distracting day, for obvious reasons, and Gladio has really done a number on him to prove it. Prompto kinda likes the soreness, though, the little sting of pain as the hot water rushes over him. He thinks that it’d be nice if Noctis had maybe put some of the bruises there.

Prompto’s gotten a little braver with his explorations. He leans against the wall of the shower, legs spread a little ways apart. He’s got two fingers inside of himself, slicked with the lube he ordered online and had shipped to his place, to avoid the embarrassment of buying it in person. He’s stroking himself with his other hand. Prompto likes it slow, likes to draw it out. He pumps the head of his erection, twists his fingers inside of himself just right, and just as he feels the pressure building, feels the familiar burning ache in his groin, he pulls his hand away. It’s frustrating, and it makes him want to cry—but he loves it.

He pants for a minute, his cock hard and angry red against his belly, his body trembling around his buried fingers. He thinks of Noctis in front of him, doing this, telling him to beg for it. He wants the prince to dominate him, to _order_ him, and he’ll listen frantically and do it, not because Noctis is the prince, but because he desperately wants to obey him.

He’s pretty fucked up, because in his mind, he’s waiting until an imaginary Noctis finally tells him it’s okay to come. He holds off one, two more times, before he finally lets himself go, fisting the head of his erection almost painfully hard as he clenches around his fingers and comes hard. His legs give out, and Prompto slides to the floor of the shower, panting desperately, the water washing the mess  off his stomach and swirling away.

\---

Noctis finally says it one day, and Prompto almost dies of embarrassment.

They’re at Noct’s apartment, playing video games, some dumb fighter. It’s a pretty typical day. Prompto actually hit the gym today—he’s been trying to keep as busy as possible. It’s easier to focus on other things when he’s worked out all his frustrations at the gym beforehand. He’s taken up boxing, because punching something seems to exhaust him and get his stress out.

He’s terrible at it, and his knuckles are bruised, but it seems to do the job.

“So,” Noctis says lazily, sprawled out on the couch. Prompto’s sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch, because Noct has a tendency to ignore all personal space boundaries and he doesn’t think having the prince half sprawled in his lap is a good idea right now.

“So?” Prompto echoes back. He’s losing at the game they’re playing, badly. His fingers are bruised and he’s clumsy at the controls today.

“So you’ve been staring at me,” Noctis continues, casually, as if they are talking about school, or training, or how annoying Ignis was being.

Prompto’s face goes red and he drops the controller. Noct’s character swiftly destroys him with a fatal combo. Prompto doesn't care.

“I uh,” he says, trying to keep it together, trying to stay casual, but it's over. Noctis knew, _knows_ , and this is probably the end of their friendship, and Prompto is embarrassed and upset all at the same time. He’s been trying so hard to hide it, and it’s all for nothing. He hopes Noctis doesn’t hate him.

“That obvious, huh” he finally admits, and he laughs despite himself, laughs because what else can he do with such a shitty situation? Maybe if he’s casual about it, Noctis won’t hate him so much. And everyone else has noticed, Gladio and Ignis both, and sure, they’re way more perceptive than Noctis is, but it really was only a matter of time.

“Yep,” Noct says, and he puts his own controller down, yawns and stretches his hands over his head. He sits up and scoots down to Prompto’s side of the couch, leaning over the side, arms resting on his knees. Prompto wants to hide his head, he’s staring down at the floor, but instead he tips his head back to stare up at Noctis.

Noct’s face is closer than he expected, neck craned forward, and their eyes meet. Noctis has an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes are dark, and Prompto swears for a second that there’s a hint of purple to them. He’s beautiful and perfect.

“So,” Noct says again, and his voice is a little breathier than Prompto is accustomed to, “you gonna kiss me now?”

Prompto’s heart is pounding, and he doesn’t think he hears Noctis properly. He lets out a surprised little noise, a super embarrassing one, and he’s pretty sure his face is bright red. Good, maybe it’s hiding his freckles a little better. “I…” he starts to say. “I—yeah. If that’s what you want,  yeah.”

Noctis has a weird little smile on his face, and he’s nodding a little, and then he leans down, and Prompto leans up, and their lips mash together. It’s an awkward kiss; Prompto really has no idea how to do it, even though he’s googled the logistics of it. He’s always assumed he’ll kiss a girl, and it’s only recently that his thoughts have really turned to Noctis.

But it’s perfect, even though their noses bump together. The angle is strange, Prompto’s neck is tipped back at an uncomfortable angle and he can’t quite get his tongue to meet Noct’s the right way, so it’s like they’re drooling over each other more than anything.

Noctis pulls away, and Prompto expects him to tell him how awful it was.

But instead, Noct slides down onto the floor next to him, lazily throws his arms around Prompto’s neck, and leans back in. And this time, it’s a little better, their mouths meld together in wet, heated bliss, and their tongues tangle without noses and teeth getting in the way.

\---

Prompto’s on cloud nine, but he’s scared, too.

They’ve been kissing a lot, almost nonstop whenever they get time alone. When they’re in public, they have to be discreet, but there’s a certain look that Noctis gives him and it makes Prompto’s head spin. He’s pretty sure he can’t stop grinning, but he tries to keep himself from constantly glancing in Noct’s direction.

Ignis and Gladio haven’t commented, but they’ve been a little more handsy during training than is probably entirely appropriate. They’ve kept it together, there, at least. But last training practice, Ignis gives Prompto a searing look and makes vague comments about being ‘careful’, and Gladio is snorting and trying not to say anything. They probably know. It’s probably super obvious.

Last night, when they were kissing, Noctis put his hands under Prompto’s shirt. It felt good, so good, but it was fucking terrifying. He thinks, suddenly and abruptly, that Noctis is going to want to _see_ him.

It’s been all relatively tame foreplay so far. Sure, they’re usually both rock hard through their pants, and they’ve been slowly working up into grinding their hips together. Once, Noctis climbed into Prompto’s lap and took over, pressing their hips together as they kissed and panted frantically.  Somehow, even though it was intimate, though, they were still covered, still touching—but indirectly.

The thought of being naked in front of Noctis scares him, though. He’s going to ruin a good thing, just by being _himself,_ because he’s not beautiful like Noctis is. He’s _seen_ Noct, and he knows, because he pictures that body in his mind all the time. Prompto’s worked hard, but he knows he’s flawed still. He’s all harsh angles, not nearly enough muscle, scarred and a little broken.

 _And,_ he thinks bitterly, _he’s not human either._ And it’s probably only a matter of time until Noctis realizes that. He’s not even sure why Noct has chosen him, and he’s trying not to cry about it.

\---

Noct is tugging at the bottom of Prompto’s shirt, and he freezes.

They’ve been lying in Noct’s bed for a while now. Somehow, when Noctis suggested they take things to his _bedroom,_ Prompto knew this was the turn it was taking. They’ve been making out, they’ve been petting for ages now, but they’ve been avoiding the bed, because that means things are changing, evolving into something more, and they’ve been dancing around the subject. So, he mentally prepared himself for this moment, but it’s still hard, and he still goes rigid.

Noct’s hands hesitate a moment, but Prompto takes a deep breath, and he breaks the kiss a little, to nod. Then their lips fuse again, and Noctis is easing his shirt up his stomach, hands roaming across bare skin eagerly.

They break for air, and Prompto tries to keep his panic to a minimum as Noct pulls away, eyes roaming over revealed skin. He wishes that the lights were off, but they’re bright and he feels so naked. Closing his eyes helps a little, because then it’s not so bright. His pants have already ridden down over his hips, and Prompto shifts to try and hide the faded scares there, tries to make it seem like he’s got muscle instead of jutting hip bones.

“Fuck,” Noctis swears, and Prompto forces his eyes open. Noct is staring at him, and he’s wearing a new expression, and it’s not disgust or hatred, or anything Prompto expects. He’s not sure what it is, but it sure seems to him like pure unbridled lust.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Noctis murmurs, and he dips his head down and kisses along the hint of abdominal muscle and Prompto’s stomach ripples as he moans Noct’s name. It’s the first time anyone else has touched him, and when Noct eases his pants and briefs down, Prompto worries he’s going to come from that alone.  

“You worry so much,” Noct hums against the sharp line of his pelvis. Noct’s hair is soft, and Prompto wants to run his hands through it. He does, and Noct hums again, in approval, and thanks him by taking Prompto’s cock between his lips.

It’s a bad blow job, by all standards. It’s Noct’s first time giving one. Luckily, it’s also Prompto’s first time receiving one, and so they have no standards to compare it to. So it’s amazing. Noctis chokes, trying to take him in too deep, and Prompto doesn’t make it any better, he can’t control his hips and he bucks into it. He manages to shift back a little, shoulders propped against the headboard, but watching Noctis down there, between his legs, is almost too much to take. Noct’s having trouble with it, his lips are a bit swollen from their kissing, he’s choking and his chin and cheeks are messy with saliva and precum. But he’s eager and enthusiastic and Prompto closes his eyes again to try and last.

He doesn’t last long, though, and soon he’s coming, tugging frantically on Noct’s hair, trying to warn him but the words don’t quite come out as words, so much as an incoherent scream. His hips jerk forward, and Noctis tries to swallow, but he can’t breathe, and he chokes, and most of it ends up on his chin instead.

“That was,” Prompto tries to say, but he’s panting for breath, he’s a total mess, his hips are twitching, and his cock is twitching wetly on his belly as it softens, and Noctis looks absolutely amazing. There’s even some fluid in his hair, sticking wetly to the tips of his bangs.

“You going to stop worrying now?” Noctis asks, leaning down to nuzzle Prompto’s hip, getting more stickiness on his face. “Because I want to keep doing this.”

Later, of course, Prompto will still compare himself to Noct, and he still won’t like himself very much. But it’s really hard to care right now. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “I’ll stop worrying.”

And now he wants to see Noctis, so his hands start roaming; he wants to return the favour.

\---

They’re almost totally naked, again in bed.

It’s been one hell of a ride getting here, but Prompto’s eager, and hard, pressing his hips up as Noct hums between his legs. They’ve gotten a lot better, and they can read each other’s bodies like open books.

“Fuck,” Prompto moans. There’s a little jerk of his hips that means he’s about to come, and Noct’s tongue is swirling thickly around the head of his cock as his head bobs.

Noctis knows that little gesture though, and he pulls away at the last second; Prompto wants to scream  he’s so turned on and frustrated, but he fucking _loves_ it. There’s a string of saliva connecting Noct’s flushed, parted lips to his erection, and it looks so fucking hot. Noct’s fingers are buried inside him, too, twisting, almost just right, but not quite, denying him.

“Not yet,” Noct whispers, and his voice is thick, but commanding. They’re learning what each other likes. Prompto’s stomach is clenched, he’s hard and desperate. Noct loves teasing him just as much as he loves being denied; the prince has a darker side that Prompto’s so blissfully happy to cater to. He shifts his hips, and tries to pull the other’s fingers deeper.

“Please,” Prompto whispers, lets himself _beg,_ and Noct is pressing his fingers cruelly to his prostate, lips closing over his cock again. It’s rough, and intense, and Prompto’s hips thrust forward, rushing to his end---

But Noct pulls back again, and Prompto’s got tears in his eyes, he’s so frustrated. “ _Noctis,”_ he whines.

“No,” Noct says.

Noctis wrenches his fingers free, and Prompto has an idea of what comes next as Noct climbs over him, straddles his chest and presses his full, leaking erection to Prompto’s lips. He takes it in, eagerly, his own body throbbing and thrumming as Noct grabs his hair and fucks his face.

When he’s good and wet and Prompto’s been sufficiently choked a few times, Noctis withdraws. He pauses, though, even as he positions himself between Prompto’s legs.

“Okay?” Noctis asks softly—a little loving word, a soft kiss to Prompto’s shoulder. He twines their fingers together, and it’s the hand that Prompto hates. He’s wearing a bracelet over it, as always. It’s a different one, a leather one that Noct had bought for him. It’s the most touching thing Noctis has ever done, without even realizing it. Prompto has grown to love being naked with Noct, but he still won’t take the bracelet off; doesn’t think he ever will.

“Mmm,” he moans, and Noctis thrusts his hips forward, entering him roughly, and Prompto gasps, his free hand grasping frantically at Noct’s shoulders. He feels full, and it’s rough, and a little painful, but he’s complete.

\---  


Prompto still examines himself in the mirror. He’s still taking the photos, too, but now he’s taking them for a different reason.

He smiles a little ghost of a smile at himself as he twists at the hips, getting a good look at himself from several angles. He’s got a nice little set of bruises on his hips. One in the front, right over his pelvic bone, four accompanying ones along the side, right over his faded stretch marks. They’re finger shaped bruises, and there are little red welts, where nails have dug in.

He likes having his hips touched and squeezed, it’s a sensitive place, and ever since Noct has learned that, he’s made a point to mark them as his.

There’s a dark red hickey on his neck, and when he’s at school, Prompto has to cover it up thickly with foundation. He’s stopped putting it on his cheeks some days, though, because Noctis comments that he likes his freckles. So, maybe that part of him isn’t so bad.

He’s got a bite mark on his chest, too, right above his left nipple.

Prompto still doesn’t like his hips, but it feels so good when Noct touches them, that they can’t be that bad, right? And Noct smiles this absolutely perfect when Prompto moans under the touch—so that means _he_ likes them, too, right?

He poses a silly little pose as he snaps the picture.

Prompto’s too skinny, doesn’t have enough muscle. He’s vividly aware of the bracelet on his wrist that’s covering the mark there. There are little reminders of who he used to be scattered all over. And, his wrist throbs, his pulse racing under delicate skin, reminding him even as he’s alive, that he’s not entirely _alive,_ not human.

But Noctis looks at him like he is, marks him like he’s the most gorgeous person in the universe, claims him like he wants nothing else.

For now, that’s good enough. Prompto saves the photo, because the marks are a little different this week, and it’s the marks that make him feel like he’s a human being too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This started as a weird semi character study for Prompto and evolved into so much more. It's a bit long, but I didn't want to split it. I really relate to Prompto, being someone who used to be bigger in my younger years, and it's really hard to shake the dysmorphia, so I've got some long-standing issues there. Also, I have a kink for Prompto having little faded stretch marks, not gonna lie.
> 
> Again, THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading! And thanks to those who inspired this, I won't name names, but you probably know who you are! 
> 
> Now can someone else please write more Promptis edging, because it really needs it. Bring some kink to the pairing, please!!
> 
> As always, you can find more stuff on my tumblr at [@destatree](http://destatree.tumblr.com). Thanks!


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